


An Overdue Debt

by nerdytf84fan



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, a tad bit of angst, just soft boys being soft, some flirtatious banter, some spoilers for chapter three, there really needs to be more Albert / Arthur I stg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytf84fan/pseuds/nerdytf84fan
Summary: Arthur unexpectedly runs into Albert at the gunsmith in Valentine. After some convincing, he promises to show the photographer a thing or two about shooting the next day. However, Arthur gets tied up in some of the gang's shenanigans and hopes he can once again find the man who he now owes an overdue lesson in marksmanship.





	An Overdue Debt

Arthur Morgan dismounted his horse and hitched her across from the gunsmith's store in Valentine. He was low on ammo, and while there was some at Clemens Point, he leaped at any opportunity to keep his distance. Micah had started to grate on his nerves more and more each day. In fact, being around Micah was insufferable, and Arthur couldn’t for the life of him understand what Dutch saw in the man. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he couldn't trust him, but what did he know? There were no grounds to support his suspicions. Even if there were, Dutch would no doubt shrug him off and tell him to have some faith, to remember the time he himself was taken in.

Except Arthur didn't recall ever having an unquenchable bloodlust.

The outlaw shook his head and stepped inside the store. He paused, however, the sight before him making him tilt his head as his brow furrowed. Arthur scratched his bearded jaw before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, forgetting all about his troubles in that moment. 

"Mr. Mason! I never thought I'd see you in a gun store!" 

The photographer jumped backward from the catalog on the counter, his hand coming up to clutch his chest as he tried to steady his heart rate. Once he collected himself, he returned Arthur's warm smile. "Yes, well, unfortunately, I can't always rely on you to swoop in and save me, so I've decided to buy a firearm. Only as protection, of course!"

His wording pulled a deep chuckle out from Arthur's chest as he made his way over. "Which one are ya lookin' at?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I was talking it over with this gentleman here." He replied as he gestured to the gunsmith.

"A revolver will be the easiest for you. There's less recoil. The volcanic pistol has some good firepower, but you'd have to use it with two hands for a while."

"Then a revolver sounds like it'll be just fine for my needs. Gallivanting with a gang of outlaws isn't on my list of things to do anytime soon, so I'm not too concerned about the firepower."

Arthur laughed. "Sure,"

Albert smiled and handed the clerk enough money to cover a double-action revolver. “So, what brings you into Valentine?”

“Just restocking on some ammunition is all.” He said, deciding not to bother the gentleman with the details.

“Well, if you have some time I would love to learn from you how to handle this fine weapon. You’re the best marksman I know, after all.”

Arthur brushed aside the compliment with a wave of his hand. “Please, Mr. Mason, you exaggerate.”

“You may say that, but I’d like to think otherwise. Would you be willing to show me the ropes?”

“Sure, I could show you a thing or two. Why don’t we meet tomorrow by that cliff that overlooks the Dakota?” He offered before a wry grin twisted his lips as he gave the photographer a pat on the shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t get too close to the edge this time.”

“Trust me, I won’t be making that mistake again anytime soon. At least I hope not, I wouldn’t put it past my foolish self to make the same mistake twice.” Albert replied with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You’ll be fine. I'll see you around Mr. Mason.” Arthur said as he purchased some ammunition.

“I sure hope so, take it easy Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur gave him a nod as he left and tucked the ammunition away in his satchel. Seeing that it was still early, he decided to visit the saloon for a breakfast that wasn’t Mr. Pearson's stew before heading back to camp.

He thought about going hunting with Charles, playing a game of poker, or going fishing with Kieran once he returned to camp. But then he heard that drawl-filled voice that drained every ounce of his patience. It was like nails on a chalkboard to his ears, and Micah was full of nonsense. Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes as the man recited a verse from the Beatitudes. The outlaw swore that it was the most hypocritical thing he’d witnessed in his whole life. Micah was the antithesis of a peacemaker. He craved violence, and yet here he was trying to convince Dutch and the rest of them to accept Colm’s parley. Arthur didn’t like the look of it one bit, and neither did Hosea, but he agreed to go on the condition that he’d be the one covering Dutch’s back.

He was watching the two gang leaders through the sights of his rolling block rifle when he heard footsteps behind him. By the time he turned around, it was too late, and his world went black.

The next two days were the definition of excruciating, but it wasn’t his first time experiencing pain, and he was determined to get out alive. He had to tell Dutch about Colm’s plan.

Arthur wasn’t sure how he’d made it out alive and mostly in one piece. It was a miracle he’d even survived the septic wounds after making it back to camp. He no doubt owed Miss Grimshaw his life. Regardless of her skill, it took him a few weeks to get back onto his feet. The genuine concern shown by some of the gang surprised him. It was no secret that he didn’t think much of himself, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to their expressed sentiment over, yet another, near-death experience.

While sitting on the edge of the pier, he flipped through his journal and paused at the page he’d written before he was taken hostage by Colm. Arthur swore under his breath and closed his journal, suddenly angry with himself for forgetting all about meeting Albert Mason. He wasn’t even sure how to find the gentleman again. It seemed that Arthur only crossed the man's path when he least expected it. He rose to his feet, grunting at the soreness in his joints, and crossed through the camp to mount his horse. With a kick to her side, they were galloping off towards the Heartlands to begin his search for the photographer. When he saw no sign of him there, he crossed the Dakota and followed the creek towards Wallace Station.

The snarling of wolves caught his attention and he spurred his horse toward the sound. Perhaps he was crazy for diving head first into danger, and maybe it wasn’t Albert who had attracted the predators, but he was willing to take that chance.

He pulled back the reigns when he arrived at the scene of four wolves circling a tree, their teeth bared and jaws snapping at a man who had climbed onto the first limb. As life-threatening as the situation was, he couldn’t help the way his heart leapt as he recognized the man as Albert Mason. Arthur drew his repeater and let out a shout to draw the wolves’ attention. They turned, and the outlaw swiftly dispatched them. He dismounted, holstered the repeater in his saddle, and walked over to the man.

Albert let out a nervous laugh at the sight of him. “Mr. Morgan! Here to save the day again, I see! What would I do without you?”

“It was nothing,” He grinned as he offered a hand to help the photographer down from his perch. Albert gratefully took it, and Arthur couldn’t help but notice how soft his hand was. The photographer brushed himself off and straightened his vest once his feet were on the ground again, and Arthur lifted his hat out of the tall grass. He offered it to him, his eyes involuntarily flicking up to Albert’s soft brown locks that were usually kept hidden beneath the Panama hat. The gentleman thanked him as he retrieved his hat and placed it on his head.

“It’s been a while.” Albert reflected out loud. “Have you been alright?”

“I got a little…tied up.” Arthur replied, trying to choose his words wisely.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Figuratively, I hope?”

“It’s a long story, forget I said anything.”

Albert wanted to press him for more details as he watched the man roll his shoulder as if working out a recent injury. Arthur was a man of few words but knowing what little he did about his dangerous life made Albert worry about him. Instead of probing him with questions, he scratched the back of his neck and nodded. “Sure, if you say so.”

Arthur felt his eyes lower to the ground, almost regretting not telling him what had happened, and Albert’s graciousness made him feel a twinge of guilt. The shine of a revolver in the grass took his mind off the feeling, and he knelt down to pick it up. “Is this yours?”

“It is, but I have yet to actually use it.”

“You had half a pack of wolves surround you and you _still_ haven’t used it?” He scoffed as he gave him a look of disbelief, keeping his tone light and playful.

“I know. Typical of a man from the city, right?” Then, in an equally playful tone, “To be fair, Mr. Morgan, I never received my lesson.”

“Well, why don’t we fix that right now Mr. Mason.” Arthur grinned. “We can practice on this tree.”

The outlaw showed him the basics first, teaching him how to hold, load, cock, and de-cock it safely. Albert watched him intently, his hand resting on his bearded chin as he soaked in Arthur’s teaching. As Arthur finished explaining, he found his eyes lingering on his lips more than his hazel eyes. He cleared his throat, hoping Albert hadn’t noticed, and handed him the revolver.

“You think you’re ready to try it out?” He asked.

“I, I think so.” Albert mused as he nervously licked his lips, an action that Arthur most definitely caught and made his heart skip a beat.

As Albert held the weapon in his hands like he was told, Arthur stood behind him and helped square his shoulders. The photographer swallowed at the surprisingly gentle, lingering touches on his shoulders and arms.

“That’s it,” Arthur said as he placed his hands over Albert’s to adjust his grip before straightening the angle of his arms, “just like that. Now focus on your breathing, relax, and aim.”

“Like this?” He asked as he followed his instructions.

Arthur waited as he stood close to his side, just inches apart, watching him closely. “Yes, perfect. Now when you go to squeeze the trigger, make sure you hold your breath after you exhale.”

“Got it,”

Arthur gave him another once over before placing a hand on the small of his back. He felt the man jump slightly and he was glad Albert couldn’t see the grin that pulled at the corner of his mouth, unable to hide his mirth. “Straighten up a bit, don’t hunch over.”

Albert nodded, feeling his face grow hot and it was a struggle to settle the rhythm of his breathing. It was a miracle that he was able to focus with one of Arthur’s hands on his back and the other on his shoulder. His close proximity didn't help either but Albert somehow managed to even his breathing, hold his breath, and pull the trigger. He was surprised that the bullet had found its mark and he beamed from ear to ear.

“Would you look at that!” Albert exclaimed.

“Look at you! Now fire the rest, see if you can hit the trunk’s center.”

While his aim wasn’t perfect, he was happy to have hit the middle of the tree at least once. He lowered the weapon, removed the empty shells, and holstered the revolver. By now Arthur had removed the hand that had rested on his back, but the other stayed where it was and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“That was amazing!”

“Well, I did learn from the best.” Albert offered with a coy smile.

Arthur chuckled to himself as he dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Nah, that was all you, Mr. Mason.”

“That’s hardly the case! And please, I’m sure we can be on a first name basis by now.”

He smiled and gave him a nod. “Sure, if you insist.”

They were silent for a moment, both reveling in the joy and delight of Albert’s accomplishment. This time it was Albert’s gaze that strayed from Arthur’s eyes. It was only for a second, but Arthur noticed it regardless. A breathy, nervous laugh escaped him. “It seems that I am now even _more_ in your debt. As I’ve said before, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably get eaten by wolves,” Arthur jested.

“Yes, without a doubt.” A mischievous look then flickered in his eyes. “Perhaps, I could pay at least some of my debt.”

“Al, you don’t owe me any—” Arthur was cut off before he could finish his sentence by Albert’s lips on his. The kiss took him off guard, and the photographer pulled away before Arthur could even fully wrap his head around what had happened.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” He stammered, suddenly unsure of himself. Arthur interrupted his babbling by moving in for another kiss, his calloused hands cupping Albert’s bearded face. This time it was well received on both ends, and Arthur found himself parting his mouth at Albert’s silent request with a nip at his bottom lip. The feeling of his soft fingers tangling with his hair sent a shiver down his spine, a groan climbing up Arthur’s throat as his hand shifted from Albert’s face to his hip as he pulled him closer.

They finally parted from one another, both breathless and flushed. The outlaw chuckled to himself as he noticed Albert’s hat had been knocked off during their kiss and he couldn’t resist running his fingers through the exposed brown waves.

“I’d say that’s one of the better payments I’ve received in a long while.” He mused with a content sigh.

“Well, the payment doesn’t have to stop there.” Albert replied with a smirk.

“What’re you waiting for, then? Your payment is well past due.”

 


End file.
